Many people regard particularly compelling live shows as not merely great performances but great “experiences.” If you happened to witness Swans’ performance at The Metro in Chicago on May 11th, chances are you can now relate to that sentiment wholeheartedly.
Granted, Michael Gira and company have been decimating audiences in one form or fashion for over 4 decades now. Although their method of attack has evolved considerably over the years, it’s never really been possible to passively attend a Swans show. Indeed, whether they were pulverizing fans with their brutally abrasive dirges in the 80s or blowing minds with their incredibly dense experimental sonic compositions in their subsequent eras, suffice to say Swans never fail to leave an impression, particularly in a live setting.
While a lot of that naturally has to do with the tremendous level of sheer volume and force that goes along with the Swans’ live experience, it’s Michael Gira’s distinctive brand of unflinching intensity that really propels things forward and steels the show.
His role as the undisputed creative force and leader of the band is even more evident live, as he essentially served as the master of ceremonies Saturday night, effectively directing the rest of the band through all the noisy twists and turns throughout their often-spellbinding performance. Through subtle (and not so subtle) non-verbal cues, Gira led the band at large through what felt like a long-extended jam session over the course of their 2+ hour set. Although it was sometimes difficult to tell when one song ended and another began, that was all part of the uniquely compelling journey that encapsulates the Swans life experience.
Most songs/sessions started out relatively low-key, with Gira steadily strumming away at his guitar and eerily chanting lines that sounded like they could have been unearthed from a long-lost ancient pagan cult. Over the course of several minutes, the music would typically evolve and build in strength, as Gira would effectively harness the band’s collective energy into a sound that was beyond loud and forceful, conjuring up something that felt truly greater than the sum of its parts, something almost gravitational in nature really. That said, there were plenty of more prolonged, broodingly subdued moments throughout the show, which not only contributed to the palpably compelling atmosphere but also served to heighten the impact of the band’s sonic onslaughts when they arrived.
The sheer intensity of Swans’ wall-of-sound dynamic was rivaled only by that of Michael Gira himself, whose demeanor throughout was consistently foreboding and occasionally downright manic. At one point, in a particularly captivating display of frenetic manifestation, Gira held out his left palm, spit into it, and proceeded to slap the side of his face with his own saliva-saturated hand. But he wasn’t finished. He continued to frantically slap the left side of his face repeatedly for what seemed like at least ½ a minute, all the while crying out with a sadistic fervor that made it difficult to tell if he was suffering or enjoying himself (or perhaps both). Whatever the case, suffice it to say it was a compelling display and seemed to capture the type of demented, violent, and harrowing energy that characterized Swans back in their notoriously brutal early/mid-80s era.
Honestly, it felt a little disturbing and unpredictable, which was awesome to behold, much like the entirety of Swan’s performance Saturday night. It was a compelling display of beauty and brutality, restraint and force, ecstasy, and agony, with transcendent highs and crushing lows. In other words, it was more than an “experience” per se. It was a Swans show.
